


Carry On, My Wayward Son (God’s on Team Free Will)

by grednforgesgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Goodbyes, Lots of Crying, M/M, Other, Some crying, badassery ensues, brochester, ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grednforgesgirl/pseuds/grednforgesgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final showdown with Abbadon, and an imagining of the end of the finale series. An imagining of how it will all go down in the end. It wrote itself, don’t blame me. I was crying too. I’ve had this headcannon swirling around, wanting to escape, and this is how it turned out. Originally it was Destiel, and it ended up that way, but it turned into tears everywhere by the end of it. It’s the only happy ending I can possibly imagine for Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry On, My Wayward Son (God’s on Team Free Will)

 

**_Title_ ** _: Carry On, My Wayward Son (God’s on Team Free Will)_

**_Description:_ ** _The final showdown with Abbadon, and an imagining of the end of the finale series. An imagining of how it will all go down in the end. It wrote itself, don’t blame me. I was crying too. I’ve had this headcannon swirling around, wanting to escape, and this is how it turned out. Originally it was Destiel, and it ended up that way, but it turned into tears everywhere by the end of it. It’s the only happy ending I can possibly imagine for Sam._

**_Word Count:_ ** _5398_

**_Characters:_ ** _Dean, Sam, Castiel, Abbadon, Plus One (A Canon Character…shhh spoilers)_

**_Pairings:_ ** _Destiel_

**_Rating:_ ** _T for tears and violence and character death. And some foul language. Do you need a warning for gayness? There’s a little bit of gayness. (But it’s destiel, so inevitably there’s a lot of gayness, though not explicit gayness. Sad gayness. Make you want to crawl in a hole and cry gayness. Sorry)_

**_Warnings:_ ** _ahahaha bring tissues._

**_Serious Warnings:_ ** _Character death. Character resurrection. A bit of rapey-Abbadon-Possession. (forced kissing) (It’s Supernatural what did you think was going on here) I feel like I should include a warning for a happy ending. This fucking show. Fucking heartbreak. I’m so done. Shut up and take your fucking fanfiction._

**_A/N:_ ** _Jumps right into the action, big boss battle, I was picturing a field somewhere in Kansas at sunset. They’ve arrived in the Impala. Abbadon has slaughtered a bunch of people. Dean has the Mark of Cain. Cas is human without his grace. Basically, everything’s pretty much canon compliant and how you’d picture the whole Abbadon plotline ending as well as maybe the end of the show (although that’s a bit later). (Also, Sam’s not dead. Just thought I’d point that out)_

_Enjoy!_

 

 

Cas stood beside Dean as they faced down Abbadon. She was cornered and she knew it. She stood with her back turned to them. Sam kneeled in front of her, and she twisted the blade in his chest. Abbadon looked over her shoulder at them as she pulled the blade out of Sam. Sam locked eyes with Dean, eyes wide and afraid. Dean gasped, and Sam crumpled to the ground. Dean’s blood pounded, he knew he should care. But it was just another reason to slaughter the bitch. But Cas gasped, made a noise of protest. The First Blade felt warm in Dean’s hand, and he grinned, ready to kill the bitch.

“Look who it is,” she said. “Little Dean Winchester and his pet Angel. Nice to see you again.”

“I can say the same about you,  _bitch,_ ” spat Dean dangerously.

Abbadon turned, eyes flicking between Dean and Cas, then her eyes fell on the first blade. She couldn’t hide the flicker of fear that Dean saw. And he grinned.

“Well…brought the big guns, have we now, boys? You sure you can handle a weapon like that, baby?”

Dean shoved up his sleeve, showing the glowing Mark of Cain. Abbadon inhaled deeply, throwing her head back.

“How did you get that?” she snarled.

“From an old friend of yours. Cain sends his regards.”

“You bastard,” said Abbadon. She was angry, livid. “Well, time to get down to business, don’t you think?”

“I think so,” snarled Dean.

“Well, if we’re going to do this, I’m going to need a new outfit, don’t you think?” she said, running her hands down her body in dissatisfaction. She looked up at Dean, eyes flickering between the pair of boys, and in that she saw all she needed to.

“Enough with the games, Abbadon!” yelled Dean, taking an angry step forward.

 But Abbadon took another step back, and she laughed, throwing her head back.

“See ya later, boys,” she said, and then threw her head back. Black smoke poured out of her with a roar, and Dean yelled, angry to be cheated like this when they were so close to the end.

“Don’t you run out on me, you  _coward!”_ yelled Dean, running up to Abbadon and stabbing her with the Blade. But he was too late, the smoke was already up in the air, circling above them like a vulture. Dean and Cas eyed it warily.

And then suddenly she struck, and the smoke flew down Castiel’s mouth, dropping him to his knees.

“ _NO!”_ yelled Dean.

Cas fell on all fours, his trenchcoat splayed out over his legs, head bowed to the ground, all trace of the smoke gone. Dean watched, afraid for the first time since he’d picked up the Blade.

“Cas?” he whispered.

Cas raised his head. He stood up. He blinked. His eyes went red.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, but his voice was wrong,  _all wrong,_  the way he said it, the tone, the inflection, lacking any and all affection in it. He blinked again and his eyes were back to blue.

“Abbadon,” growled Dean. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Really now,” she said through Cas, appearing amused. Her eyes traveled down Cas’ body. “Hm, I like this. All male and strong and  _oh!_ The parts!” Abbadon laughed, voice was Cas but  _not_ Cas, and Dean became angrier than he’d ever been.

“You  _get out of him!”_  he yelled.

Abbadon merely laughed, circling him, trenchcoat swishing.

“You like him, I can tell. Like this body he’s got.”

Dean glared.

“You think it’s sexy, huh? Yeah, I do too. Maybe when I’m done with you I’ll make him my  _pet._  He can be my new favorite toy.”

Dean threw himself at Abbadon, swinging the Blade angrily, with no technique and all pure rage, and it was no wonder he ended up on his knees. Abbadon punched him, once, twice, three times. Dean spat blood in her face. She snarled, wiping it off and punching him again for his trouble.

“You get out of him,” he growled. “ _GET OUT OF HIM, NOW!”_

“You know he’s very  _fond_ of you,” teased Abbadon. “He’s in here, now, fighting against me. Flapping his wings like a little caged bird. But I’ve got him locked up nice and tight. You know, no one’s ever fought me so hard before. He wants to get back to you.”

“Let him go you  _bitch_ ,” spat Dean. Abbadon twisted his wrist, and Dean cried out in pain, barely managing to keep his hold on the Blade. It felt like it was glued to him. It was a part of him now and he couldn’t drop it, he couldn’t.

“I don’t think so,” said Abbadon. She leaned in close, brushing her…Cas’ lips against Dean’s ear.  “He’s in love with you, you know?”

Abbadon pulled back to see his reaction, and Dean’s face fell in shock, eyes wide.

“Aw, you didn’t know? How adorable. Unrequited love. Well, I’m going to make him rip your throat out. He’s going to taste your skin, though not in the way he’s imagined.”

“You  _bitch!”_ yelled Dean, voice breaking.

Abbadon laughed. She grabbed his head, forcing his face upwards. He couldn’t move his head. Couldn’t do anything but look into Cas’ blue eyes and hope to God that he could fight this, fight her, because Dean didn’t think he was capable anymore.

“Let him go,” he whimpered.

“No,” laughed Abbadon, and she leaned down and shoved Cas’ lips onto his.

Dean might have felt himself crying. This wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what he had ever wanted. Not like this.

He couldn’t resist, though, couldn’t move. Abbadon gripped him too tight. She was all hot breath and teeth and tongue, trying to force Dean to respond. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

When he wouldn’t kiss her back she pulled back and slapped him, hard. Dean fell to the ground on all fours. He wanted to give up.  _Oh_ how he wanted to give up. The Blade burned in his hand and he knew what it was telling him to do, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Abbadon, because he couldn’t kill Cas.

“Cas…” he whimpered, praying, the last hope of a desperate man. “Cas, please…”

Abbadon grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket, pulled him up roughly.

“Cas is gone,” she growled, and punched him.

She punched him and punched him, again and again and Dean wanted to fight but he couldn’t find it in him anymore. Why did it always end up like this?

“Please, Cas,” he whimpered. “Please, fight it, fight her…I know you can, Cas, _please,_ come back to me…”

_WHAM!_ Abbadon punched him again.

“Cas, hear me, buddy, please…I need you…”

_WHAM!_

“Cas…please…you have to fight this…you have to take control of her…”

_WHAM!_

Blood was pouring from his nose and his mouth.

“Cas…Cas…please….I need you. I love you.”

Dean looked up into Cas’ eyes desperately, Abbadon was laughing, but Dean could swear he could see Cas behind her eyes….

“Cas…” he whispered.

And then suddenly Abbadon let go.

She stumbled backwards.

“You won’t hurt Dean,” said Cas firmly.

“Cas!” cried Dean.

Cas’ eyes found him again.

“Dean,” he said, and he fell.

Dean caught him.

“Cas, hey, buddy, you okay? Cas, you with me?”

“Dean,” he kept muttering. “ _Dean.”_

“Hey, I’m here, I’ve got you, man,” he whispered.

Cas’ eyes were wide and scared.

“I’ve got her, for the moment, I’ve managed to hold her…you have to kill me, Dean, you have to finish this…”

“ _NO!”_  growled Dean fiercely.

Cas reached for something, and then pushed it into Dean’s hand. The Blade. When had he dropped it? He wasn’t sure. He pushed it away.

“Kill me, Dean. Kill her. Quickly, please…”

“I won’t kill you Cas, I won’t…”

“You have to.”

“No.”

Cas huffed a heaving breath in exasperation.

“Dean—“

“ _I said no, Cas,”_ he said firmly. “I can’t kill you. Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did,” whispered Cas. Dean cupped Cas’ face as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“She said you love me,” murmured Dean. “Is it true?”

Cas locked eyes with Dean, nodded.

“Yes,” said Cas.

“Then how can I possibly kill you?”

“Because she’s inside me, now, and if you don’t, she’ll use me to kill thousands of people, Dean…just to torment you. Please, don’t let her do that. Don’t let her do that to me, Dean. Please kill me.”

Dean shook his head fiercely.

_“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas—“_

“That won’t work, Dean, not on a Knight of Hell, you know that, Dean…”

Dean ignored him.

_“Omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregation et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam secure tibi facia libertate servire, te rogamus, AUDI NOS.”_

Nothing happened. Dean screwed up his face as the tears began to fall. Cas let out a sigh and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pleading him imploringly with his eyes.

“I won’t give up on you, Cas,” he gasped. “You’ve never given up on me, and I won’t give up on you. I promise.”

“Please, Dean, you have to let me go. You have to kill me,” Cas pushed the blade towards him again, locking their fingers together.

“ _I can’t,”_ he whispered.

“Then I will,” said Cas, and suddenly he was no longer Cas, but Abbadon. She flung herself away from him, and attempted to stab it in Cas’ stomach. Without the Mark of Cain it was useless to kill her, but it would kill Cas, who was only human now. Dean threw himself at her, preventing her from delivering the blow. He punched her, straddling her, pining her down.

“You—let—him— _go!”_ he yelled, accenting every word with a punch.

Abbadon merely laughed.

“That’s  _never_ going to happen,” she laughed. “you got your little declaration of love in, now…but I’m back, he won’t get free again. I promise you that.”

Dean punched her. He slammed her fist holding the Blade against the ground. Once, twice, three times. She dropped the blade. Dean picked it up.

He knew what he had to do.

_Kill her._

_Cas._

_KILL HER._

_But Cas._

**_KILL HER._ **

_Cas…_

**_KILL HER NOW_ **

Dean raised the Blade. Abbadon looked nothing short of terrified. She opened her mouth, ready to escape, but Dean covered her mouth, closing it shut, trapping her in.

“Bye, bitch,” he growled, and stabbed Abbadon…Cas…right in the chest.

Abbadon exploded in light, screaming underneath Dean’s hand. Dean saw Cas’ skeleton and his face grew hard.

Cas went limp. Dean pulled the Blade out and threw it as far away from him as he could.

“Cas?” whispered Dean.

Cas did not respond.

_“CAS!”_ cried out Dean desperately, pulling him close, cradling his head. “Cas, _answer me, man…”_

Cas did not move.

“CAS!” he yelled, and the tears came hot and fast. “ _Cas, please…”_

He stroke Cas’ face, thumbs running over stubble, fingers stroking sharp cheekbones, begging Cas to open his eyes.

“ _Please, man….please….I need you, Cas…I need you…”_

Cas still did not respond, and Dean began to sob in earnest, his head lowering to Cas’ chest, sobs muffled by trenchcoat. His shoulders shook as he cradled a dead Cas to him.

Dean didn’t know how long he stayed there, sobbing. Long enough for Cas to begin to stiffen. He couldn’t let that happen. He began to panic, trying to get Cas’ blood flowing, rubbing his arms, crying out his name.

Dean then heard soft, muffled footsteps.

He looked up.

Sam stood there, watching Dean fall to pieces, tall and proud, framed in the setting sun.

But it was not Sam.

“Dean,” he said gently.

“Sammy?” he asked.

Sam shook his head.

“I am not your brother,” he said calmly.

Though whatever it was used Sam’s voice, it didn’t sound like Sam. His voice was so incredibly calming, soft and deep and gentle, that Dean found himself entranced.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“You know who I am, Dean,” he said softly.

Dean’s eyes widened. He put two and two together. But it couldn’t be.

Sam held something out in his hand. He let it drop. It stopped, caught by the leather cord. Dean’s amulet. It was a burning, glowing white.

Dean felt himself go completely and utterly still, eyes wide.

“God?” he breathed.

God merely looked at him calmly.

“Holy crap,” gasped Dean.

God’s lips twitched in amusement.

“I’ve always appreciated your sense of brevity, Dean,” he said. “It is one of my finer accomplishments, in my humble opinion.”

Dean was terrified, but he couldn’t help himself. He was angry. And what did he have left to live for, anyway? Cas was dead. He’d yell at anyone, scream at anyone, accuse anyone of everything because  _this was the guy at fault, standing right in front of him._

“You son of a bitch,” growled Dean. “You  _bastard._  Where the  _hell_ have you been? You could have stopped this! You could have stopped it all! But you’ve been sitting on a beach somewhere sipping tequilas, you son of a bitch. You could have helped. You could have  _STOPPED THIS!_ What right do you—?”

“I have every right,” said God, and His voice became dangerously deep. Lightening crackled overhead. “One might ask what right  _you_ could ever possibly have to question  _me._ ”

Dean was shaking, completely terrified, in complete awe. But he was livid,  _so livid,_ but he couldn’t speak for fear. He gripped Cas’ body tightly, grounding him. What would Cas say? What would Cas do? What would Cas  _want_ him to do?

Maybe the Cas Dean had first met would want him to bow to his knees before God, would want him to ask forgiveness and to worship Him. But the Cas Dean knew now, the changed Cas, the  _human_ Cas, the Cas he held in his arms,  _that_ Cas, that Cas would want answers.

“Why?” whispered Dean. “Why weren’t you there? The Apocalypse? The Leviathans? The Angels falling? Was none of that  _worth your time?”_

God lowered His eyes.

“I could not,” He said gently. “It was not my place.”

“Not your—?” said Dean, and then he realized he didn’t care anymore. He hunched over Cas, pulling him tight. Then he looked back up at God. “Please, just bring Cas back. Please.”

God tilted His head.

“What strange, funny little creatures my children are sometimes. Love does that, I suppose. Look at you, Dean. You are one of my finest creations, and I have loved you. Look at all I have done for you, and yet still you have the audacity to demand more.”

“Please, God,” begged Dean. “I can’t live without him.”

“I know,” He said. “And yet it was something I’d never planned for.” God looked down at Castiel. “Free Will. Hmm. The human who fell for an Angel. And the Angel who fell for a human. When I created you, I asked all my children to love you more than me, because I loved you more than myself. None of them did. Not truly,” God looked sad for a long moment. He tilted His head. “And then there was Castiel. The one Angel who actually did.”

God looked at Dean again.

“He always loved my creations. He always loved the humans. But then came you. And he loved you more than anything. He loved you, Dean. He loved you more than me, more than his brothers and sisters, more than Heaven and Earth. He did as I had commanded, and for that I have loved him more than any of my children. It’s why I have brought him back before. It’s why I will bring him back now.”

Cas suddenly gasped in air, eyes opening wide. Dean clutched Cas to him, sobbing in relief.

“Cas?!  _Cas! Oh, thank God, Cas, you’re alive!”_

Cas looked up at Dean with wide, panicked eyes, unsure of what was going on.

“Hey, hey,” whispered Dean softly.

“Dean?” said Cas, voice gruff.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me,” he whispered, cupping Cas’ face and stroking his cheeks. “Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“How—?”

Dean smiled at him through his tears, but couldn’t possibly answer. Cas’ eyes wandered, and he looked up at God. His eyes went wide. He gasped.

Cas scrambled to sit up, but he clutched at Dean like a lifeline.

“Father?” he gasped.

“Hello, Castiel,” said God gently.

Castiel was torn between throwing himself at God’s feet or punching God in the nose. Both sounded very appealing.

“I know you are both angry with me. And you have every right to be. But you should know I helped as much as I could. Any more interference from me, and it would have destroyed my Plan. Dean, you learned from Death that there is a natural order to things, did you not?”

Dean nodded.

“There is a reason for everything, Dean. There is a reason I did not swoop in and save the day. You had to do it on your own. Sam had to do it on his own. You chose Free Will, and ripped up the Angel’s plan, just as I had intended and predicted.”

“Why did it all have to happen in the first place?” Dean said, trying to keep his voice respectful, when it was brimming with anger and accusation.

God looked down at Sam’s hands, flexed them. He eyed Sam’s body, then looked up at Dean.

“Sam,” He said softly.

“What does Sam have to do with anything?” accused Dean.

“Sam is…Sam is special,” said God.

“The Demon Blood,” assumed Dean.

“No!” said God, His voice became dangerous. Dean clutched to Castiel, and Castiel gripped him tightly, as if to say  _I will protect you, but what good could my protection do?_  “The Demon Blood was a taint, a  _curse._ ”

“What in the Hell are you talking about, man?” groaned Dean impatiently.

God looked around, locked eyes with Dean. His eyes were exceedingly gentle, as though He knew it would be hard for Dean to hear.

“Sam is…Sam is my true vessel. Sam is my son. Sam was meant for so much more than he got. He was meant to be the second coming of Christ, he was meant to contain me as I walked the earth and healed it of it’s sins. He was _meant_ for so much more.”

Dean felt his stomach drop. He felt his mouth fall open.

“You…you mean…?”

God looked at Dean, like He knew he wasn’t getting it.

“Sam was meant to be the second coming of Christ. The resurrection.”

“Sam is…Sam is your  _son?_ ”

“Yes,” said God. “He is my true vessel. There are very few who are born strong enough to contain me for long, though I may possess anyone. A beggar on the street, a hunter, an old drunk, a prophet. Who would say no to  _me?_ But only a few are strong enough, and only two have ever been my true vessels throughout history. Jesus Christ was the first. And Sam Winchester was the second.”

 Dean needed a moment. He didn’t think he’d ever wrap his head around this one. He was in complete shock. His brother, the true vessel of God? The second coming of Christ? What the  _hell?_

“Why Sammy?” said Dean. “Why’d it have to be him?”

“It was always meant to be him. I’ve poured everything I am into his creation. Generations upon generations. For centuries I have labored. The world needed saving, and only Sam could do it, only Sam was capable. And when it came time…I possessed your father, and Sam was born. He is special. He is my son. And I wanted so much more for him.”

Dean wanted to yell. He wanted to rage. What right did God have to tear apart his family like this, to throw away his every ideal?

“Don’t worry, Dean, Sam is still your full brother. He always has been. He just had an extra father. I had both John and Mary’s consent. They knew God would watch over their child.”

Dean hung his head. Cas placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean?” he whispered.

Dean closed his eyes. He looked back up at God, eyes swelling with rage.

“How can Sam be your true vessel if he was also Lucifer’s?” he spat.

God clenched His jaw.

“The wrench in the works,” muttered God. “Lucifer. He is  _always_ the wrench in the works. Sam was  _never_ meant to be Lucifer’s vessel. Sam was never meant to be  _touched_ by Lucifer. But I failed to protect him, and Sam was poisoned with Demon’s blood. Lucifer betrayed me. His greatest betrayal. I love Sam as my son, and Lucifer corrupted him. Tainted him, through one of Lucifer’s own twisted children. I suppose Lucifer thought it would be ironically fitting: to steal my vessel, my  _son,_  and turn him into his own twisted vessel of destruction. Lucifer made Sam uninhabitable for me. I could no longer save him.”

“You could have  _tried!”_  accused Dean roughly.

God turned to glare at Dean. Dean immediately wanted to turn his head in fear, but he wouldn’t. He would hold God’s gaze and demand answers.

“You don’t think I did? You don’t think everything,  _everything_ that I have been doing, has been to  _save Sam?_  It was the least I could do for him, after _everything._ It has been the  _only_ thing I could do to redeem myself. I failed him. My only obligation was to fix him.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me why he still sucked down Demon Blood, why you let him die so many times, why did you never stick your nose in? He nearly died doing the Trials! He said yes to Lucifer! Was possessed by the goddamn  _devil!_ He fell in the cage, with  _Lucifer,_ was  _tortured,_ was split in  _two_ for a  _year_ and you still couldn’t save him!”

And this time it was God who lowered his eyes, and Dean let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Everything that has happened to Sam…happened for a reason.”

“Don’t you give me that crap!” yelled Dean. Cas gripped his shoulder, holding him back. Dean was shaking. “You let my little brother hurt, you let him go through all of that…why? What for? Why couldn’t you just  _fix_  him?”

“I did, Dean,” said God gently. His calmness grated against Dean’s anger. He wanted God to yell back, to get mad, to strike Dean down for being so disrespectful. But He only stood there, head bowed, looking sad. “It took time. Years. I finally achieved it. I made him pure. Sam told you the trials were purifying him…he was not wrong. That was my design. I scrubbed the demon blood from him when I placed you both on that plane. I needed Sam to break in the cage, so he could be put back together, stronger than before. So I could extract the evil from him. I guided him free when he was possessed by Lucifer, glinted the sun off the Impala, so he could remember that he loved you, so he could break free. Love is the only thing that can break a possession, did you know that? It was that love; that love of you that I crafted in him, that allowed him to break free. He was me in that moment, he was everything I had designed for him. And he was the martyr, Jesus, as he threw himself in the cage to save the world. The greatest self-sacrifice. With that act he was worthy of purification. I was never more proud of him than in that moment. ”

Dean shook his head. He felt the tears falling, though he did not know why.

He looked up to meet God’s eyes.

“Is Sam alive?” he asked brokenly.

God was quiet for a long moment.

“Sam is at peace. Sam is with me now. He is at peace as he has never been in his life. Sam…finally understands.”

“Does he know you’re there?”

God looked at him as though he’d personally wounded Him.

“Of  _course_ he does.”

Dean clenched his jaw.

“He can hear you as well as I can. He can see you as well as I can. He loved you just as much as he always has. He and I are one now, Dean.”

“So he’s gone?” said Dean, tears falling. Cas wrapped an arm around him. Dean leaned into him. Cas glared at God.

“No, I am him, and he is me. As it was meant to be. The melding is almost complete, now.”

“You let him go,” demanded Dean.

God looked at him, and Dean could read everything in his face, after all, it was a face he knew better than his own. Sam looked hurt, eyebrows drawn together, pouting, like Dean had just denied him sweets, or told him he couldn’t go to school because Dad was on a job, because they were in danger. And he was a child once again, and his only job was to keep Sam alive and happy. _Take care of Sammy, Dean._

“He does not want me to go,” said God. “The mere mention of it repulses him. Even now, he is resisting, clinging tighter to me.”

“I wanna talk to him,” said Dean. He tried to sound demanding, but it merely came out broken and childlike.

God appeared to be sympathetic. He watched Dean with gentle eyes.

“You should know,” He said softly. “That it will be the last time. Soon, we will be one. And Sam will rest.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped. He struggled to remain strong, to keep his game face on, for Sammy. But he couldn’t. The tears poured down his face. Cas placed his hand on his shoulder, and Dean looked into his eyes. He found strength there, the strength to say goodbye. Because Cas understood. Cas would be there for him to pick up the pieces.

This wasn’t what he wanted, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be…they were supposed to grow old together. Sam was supposed to get married. Have kids. Have an apple pie life. Go back to college and be a lawyer and live a  _normal. Freaking. Life._ They were supposed to grow old  _together._ As  _brothers._

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Dean,” said Cas gently. Dean placed his hands over Cas’ on his shoulder, squeezed gently. Nodded his head. Letting Cas know he could do this. That he would be alright. For the moment. He could do this. He could say goodbye. It was the right thing to do. It was what Sam wanted. Cas nodded.

Dean looked up at God. He stood. Cas’ hand slid off his shoulder. He squared his shoulders. Dean met God’s gaze evenly, though the tears were pouring down his face.

“I wanna talk to my little brother,” he said steadily.

God nodded. He closed his eyes. He began to glow. And then he bent over, head bowed.

“S-Sammy?” questioned Dean tentatively. He stepped towards his brother.

Sam raised his head. He took a moment to catch his breath.

“Hey, hey…you okay?” said Dean, stepping towards him and placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder, making sure that he could stand.

Sam met his eyes, and he smiled peacefully.

“Dean,” he said softly. “For the first time in my life…yeah, I’m okay.”

Dean’s lip quivered.

“So you’re gonna go with Him, Sammy? You’re gonna be…gonna be  _God’s vessel?_ ”

Sam smiled compassionately, eyes bright and clear.

“It’s my destiny.”

“Are you sure that this is what you want, Sammy? This is the ending you want?”

Sam nodded. Tears of happiness spilled from his eyes. Dean’s whole jaw was quivering.

“S-Sammy…” he said, trying so hard not to cry for Sam’s sake.

“Don’t cry, Dean. I’m happy. I’m at peace. God explained everything to me. I understand now. This is what I want.”

“What’s He going to do with you, Sammy?” asked Dean, knowing he had to ask. Sam smiled.

“He’s going to walk the Earth, heal the sick, make the blind see….” Sam laughed. “Turn water into wine.” Dean chuckled. “He’s going to bring peace, Dean.” Sam grinned, and he looked like a kid again, free and happy, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at that. When was the last he saw Sam smile like that? “Don’t worry, He’s not going to start the Apocalypse, Dean. You won’t have to stop Him from anything. Very low-key. He’s going to stay under the radar. Promise.”

Sam squeezed his shoulder, reassuring him. Dean bit his lip, hiding it’s quivering.

“Sammy…” he said.

“Dean, go be happy. Go  _live._ Go be with Cas and adopt some great kids and go hunting when you get bored. I won’t tell you to go live some apple-pie life because that’s not what you want. You’re a hunter, that’s what you are, and Cas can understand that. You need him. He needs you. You guys are great together. I’ve only been waiting for you to get together for years now.”

“You knew?” said Dean in lippy shock. Sam laughed.

“Of course I knew, I’m your brother,” he laughed. Dean chuckled. Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “And I want you to be happy, Dean. Okay? Promise me you’ll be happy.”

Dean swallowed. Now was not the time for lies. Now was not the time to say he’d tear up the earth looking for his little brother, trying to bring him back. Trying, one last time, to protect him. That was his job, wasn’t it?

“Your job is done now, Dean,” said Sam, reading his mind in his face. “You don’t have to protect me anymore. You can lay that burden down. Go have a family with Cas. Go adopt kids or have kids or however angels procreate, and raise them to be hunters or lawyers or astronauts or barkeeps…whatever they want to do, Dean. Just do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell them about their Uncle Sammy, and how he’s proud of them, and is watching over them, and you, and Cas, okay? Because I will be. He will be.”

“Okay. I promise,” said Dean. And the tears came hot and fast. And he broke down, because he couldn’t be strong anymore.

“Hey,” said Sam gently. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him in tight to a brotherly hug. Dean clung to him, because even though he was going to let him go, he didn’t want to. He let his tears fall freely onto Sam’s shoulders and Sam squeezed him tightly.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ll be okay. I’m with God now. I’m forgiven. I’m saved. I’m at peace.”

Dean let out a chocked sob, cupped Sammy’s head, clinging to his little brother.

“It’s almost time,” said Sam gently.

Dean closed his eyes tightly, gave Sam one last, long squeeze, and pulled back. He roughly grabbed the back of Sam’s head, like they were roughhousing as they’d do as kids, and Sam gave a watery laugh. When did he start crying?

“I love you, Sammy,” said Dean roughly. Sam looked at him with wide, trusting eyes, a child once more but also an adult at peace, finally hearing what he’d always wanted to hear.

“I know, Dean. I love you too.”

Dean let go. Sam then grabbed Dean’s hand, and pushed the amulet into it. Dean clutched it tightly. He knew he’d never let it come off his neck ever again.

“For luck,” said Sam, looking as he always had all those years ago when he’d first given it to Dean. “Goodbye, brother.”

Dean locked eyes with him.

“Be at peace, brother,” he said, tears falling down his cheeks and he stepped back. “’Bye, Sammy.”

Sam then started to glow, and his arms spread wide as if they were nailed to a crucifix. Sam…God…whoever He was…looked Dean in the eye and winked. And then He was gone.

Cas watched Dean’s shoulders stiffen. He watched as he stood stock-still, frozen to the spot. He watched as Dean rose the fist clenching the amulet to his heart. He knew he was looking at a broken man trying to keep things together. He knew they had a lot of work to do. He knew it would be a long road to recovery and Dean would never,  _ever_ be over Sam leaving. But he had to start somewhere.

Cas stood, and he stepped towards Dean, stood beside him. He slipped his hand into Dean’s, and Dean looked at him, sharing a silent conversation that had no words to be spoken aloud. And then Cas tugged at Dean’s hand, and they walked away towards the Impala, hand in hand.

They left their old life behind, and they were ready to begin a new one. Together.

And Dean and Cas drove off in the Impala on two-lane asphalt into the sunset.

—-

_(A/N: just for kicks…)_

The alley in New Orleans was empty except the tall man, and the shivering, cold, blind homeless man who crouched. The tall man crouched in front of the homeless man, his hand hovered over his cup, and the cup became immensely heavy.

“Bless you, sir, bless you,” said the homeless man.

The tall man then reached out his two fingers, and touched the man’s forehead.

“See,” he commanded, and the blind man saw.

The homeless man looked up, and saw the face of God.

“Lord?”

God said nothing. The homeless man gasped, reading all he needed to in His face.

“Thank you,” the homeless man gasped.

God nodded, and then he stood. He walked a ways down the alley, and paused as He heard the soft pad of shoes behind Him. He looked over His shoulder.

A scantily dressed woman covered in plastic beads up to her ears stared right back at Him. She wore an elaborate feathered mask pushed over her hair and a glowstick on her wrist. She carried a large tumbler in her hands, enough of it was gone that she should have been drunk, she reeked of alcohol. But she was sober as she stared at God’s back. She wasn’t the one that had been drinking.

The sound of bands, drums, and cheering echoed down the alley as people drunkenly celebrated Mardi Gras. God turned his head towards the sound. He wanted to be left alone. But He had plans, and those plans must continue. Sam would not approve. But Sam was at rest in His mind. This was something they had to do. God could not let His beautiful Earth falter any longer. He could not save the world through healing blind men, and He knew that should Sam question Him, that He could make him understand, that he would agree, whatever he’d told Dean about being low-key.

“Father?” whispered the woman in awe. “You walk among us?”

God turned, looked into what he knew was an Angel’s eyes.

“Yes,” he said, voice smooth and gentle and calming. “I am with you, my child. And we have work to do.”


End file.
